


teenagers in love 💘

by jugheadjones



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Gen, High School, just the fluff please, parentdale, valentines day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:47:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29430501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jugheadjones/pseuds/jugheadjones
Summary: Fred buys FP a school candygram every year on Valentine's Day, since they were kids. He also goes all out trying to win Hermione's heart, usually with disastrous results. But he keeps on trying every year.FP doesn't do Valentine's Day at all. The whole thing is a bunch of sappy bullshit. There's really no need for Fred to get him anything - it's just a friendly gesture, anyway. Right?
Relationships: Alice Cooper/Hal Cooper, Fred Andrews/FP Jones II, Fred Andrews/Hermione Lodge, Hal Cooper & Hiram Lodge, Hermione Lodge/Hiram Lodge, Sierra McCoy & Penelope Blossom, Tom Keller/Sierra McCoy
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12





	teenagers in love 💘

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bisexualfpjones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bisexualfpjones/gifts).
  * Inspired by [sweethearts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22757956) by [bewareoftrips](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bewareoftrips/pseuds/bewareoftrips). 



> for briana 
> 
> just like the god damn sweet valley kids

**February 13th.**

“You promise this hotel isn’t going to be fancy?” Tucked in a private corner of the busy cafeteria, Alice Smith swung her feet up into her boyfriend’s lap. She left her Doc Martens abandoned under the table, digging her sock feet into Hal’s thigh. Hal smiled, absently moving one hand to her calf as the other hand unwound the cellophane on his sandwich. Above their heads, construction-paper hearts taped to ancient streamers turned lazily in the stream of lukewarm air from the heater. 

“You already made me promise when I booked it.” 

Alice huffed and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I know, but I know you. I’ll show up and you’ll have booked us the honeymoon suite or something. Or there’ll be an ice bucket and champagne or some kind of fancy bathroom without mildew stains and you’ll think it was a surprise and then we’ll fight, and then-.” 

“I promise you’ll have the most mildewy bathroom I can get.” Hal leaned over and kissed her quickly on the lips. “You don’t have to worry. This is just so everything’s perfect tomorrow night.” His eyes glowed as his hand slid slightly further up her leg. “I’m excited. I feel bad. How many high school students do you know who get a hotel room with their girlfriend on a weeknight?” 

“If getting a hotel room with your girlfriend on Valentine’s day makes you feel bad, I don’t think you want to know about some of the other stuff that goes on in this town,” Alice replied, though she slid her foot fondly against his thigh. “Okay, I’m excited too. Kind of. We won’t have to worry about my dad or your mom bursting in.” Alice trailed her fingers up Hal’s thigh under the table, scooting a little closer to him on the bench. “No, trailer park, no Prudence. Just me and you and sweet, uninterrupted-” 

“Hey, Coop!” Hiram’s loud voice suddenly assailed their privacy. He plunked himself down on the bench opposite them and tossed his messenger bag onto the table, narrowly missing Alice's diet soda and Hal’s thermos of soup. He propped his elbows on the tabletop and looked expectantly at them as Alice and Hal pulled begrudgingly apart, the sour look Alice always got in Hiram’s presence overtaking her face. Hiram reached carelessly into Hal’s lunch box and drew out a large chocolate-chip oatmeal cookie, unwrapping it and taking a huge bite. He spoke with his mouth full. “You two running that Valentine’s Day page in the Blue and Gold this year?” 

“Not this year,” Hal said, moving the remains of his lunch out of Hiram’s reach. Hiram spat some of the cookie out of his mouth onto a napkin, and Alice made a disgusted face. Hal raised an eyebrow but said nothing. “Student council’s doing candygrams instead.” 

“Thank God,” Alice added with a scowl. “One year was enough. I had to stay up all night writing people’s stupid Valentine’s ads last year.” She nudged Hal fondly. “Meanwhile, Shakespeare here almost caused ten breakups.” 

“Mine weren’t that over the top.” Hal pouted playfully. “I did get carried away, though.” 

“Well, it sucked,” said Hiram bluntly. He spat some mushy chewed cookie onto the napkin. “I’m still mad you let Alice write my valentine to Hermione. I told you to make it extra special, Hal. Instead, it just said ‘You seem nice.’” 

“Fred had you beat anyways, Hiram. He ran one Valentine for the entire school and just said ‘to my special someone’.” Hal smiled at the memory. “He had half the grade thinking it was theirs.” His face fell as he watched Hiram let some undigested cookie fall out of his mouth. “Okay, what are you doing?” 

“I’m chewing and spitting. I can’t afford to chub up with wrestling finals so close.” Alice rolled her eyes, but Hiram kept talking. “I assume since you’re not running Valentines you’ll put the wrestling team on the front page.” 

Hal reached out and took the cookie out of Hiram’s hand. “That is a waste.” 

“I’ll tell you what’s a waste.” Hiram jabbed the hand that had been holding the cookie at a table near the front of the room. “Hermione going to the Valentine’s dance with that clown would be a waste.” 

Hal glanced over at Fred’s table. “She hasn’t decided between you yet?” 

“You know Hermione,” Alice spoke up. “She wants to get everything she can out of it first. She’s probably going with whoever gets her the better gift, am I right?” She bent down to lace her boots. Hiram said nothing. “Am I right?” 

Hiram inflated his chest. “Which is her mistake. As if Fred could afford anything half as good as me.” 

“So she has both of you running after her, showering her with gifts. Someone’s stupid here, but it’s not her.” 

Hal tilted his head at the lobby. “You better hurry. Fred’s been flashing a wad of cash around all day, talking about the candygrams he’s going to buy.” 

“Where would that loser get a wad of cash? He’s probably going to buy one for the whole school again. I have nothing to worry about.” Hiram looked expectantly at the two of them, and when no one said anything, snapped the top off of a can of coke with a loud hiss. “So what’s new with you two clowns?” 

“Hiram we were kind of having a private moment here, if you don’t mind,” Hal said hesitantly. 

“I’m not stopping you.” Hiram took a long swallow of diet coke and cleared his throat loudly. Alice flashed him a look of pure fire, and Hiram turned casually to Hal. “So Hal, are you putting the wrestling team on the front page or what?” 

Alice slammed her boots onto the ground and stood up. “I’ll get us some dessert. I saw heart-shaped Jell-O earlier.” 

“Thanks Alice,” said Hiram politely. “Can you get me another soda while you’re up? Three’s kind of a crowd, you know.” 

He ducked and narrowly missed the fist that whistled half an inch over his head. 

* * *

“You know what that is, FP?” Fred waved a bill in front of FP’s nose. His best friend kept methodically moving bites of the cafeteria meatloaf to his mouth, unfazed by Fred’s boundless energy. 

“Is it the same twenty-dollar bill you’ve been waving in my face all day?” 

Fred lowered his voice importantly. “A twenty and a ten. But the ten’s in my sock. And no.” He broke out into a smile again, waving the bill in front of FP’s face. “This, FP, is the spirit of Valentine’s day. You need to get some.” 

“That money’s going to stink like hell when you take it out.” 

“I’m going all out on candygrams this year,” Fred said proudly. “Everyone’s getting one. And that’s just at school. You should see what I have planned for Hermione’s gifts. So first, I’m picking up-” 

FP cut him off before he could launch into the conversation they’d had ten times that day. “Didn’t you buy one candygram for the whole school last year?” 

“Last year I didn’t have all this dough. And this isn’t even half of it. I’ve been shovelling snow since Boxing Day and saving it all up.” Fred bounced his foot up and down excitedly on top of FP’s under the table. “Did I tell you about the stuff I’m getting Hermione? So Segarini’s does heart shaped pizzas-” 

FP groans. “Yeah, I heard.” 

“And I’m going to have it-”

“-delivered to the cafeteria in the middle of lunch because Hermione hates tuna fish Thursdays,” FP quoted. Fred stuck out his tongue. 

“Anyway, you should buy some candy grams. I’d spot you. I’m tired of you hating on Valentine’s Day every year.” 

“What’s there to like about it?” FP shoved some brownie in his mouth. “It’s just a day.”

“The intrigue! You could get a Valentine from someone you don’t even know likes you. And it feels good when you give them out.” Fred’s eyes lit up. “You could make some people really happy.” 

“These candygrams are lollipops leftover from the jar in the nurse’s office taped to a little scrap of paper. It’s just a scam for the Student Council to make quick money. Ask Sierra.” 

“That’s only if you get the cheap ones. If you pay more you get the little candy hearts. Sometimes they have cinnamon ones, FP. Cinnamon hearts.” Fred’s foot beat an even more restless tattoo on top of his worn out sneaker. “I know you love cinnamon hearts.” 

“Who am I going to give one to?” 

“Gladys,” Fred said, like it was obvious. He flashed a dimpled grin. “Or me.” 

FP shifted awkwardly and put his fork down. “Do you want me to get you one? You get me one every year.” 

Fred pouted. “It’s not about want, FP. It’s about the surprise. It’s about filling up the school with love for a day. I don’t want one if you think they’re stupid.” Fred flashed him an injured look. “But I think you should celebrate Valentine’s Day. It makes you feel good.” 

“I can buy you cinnamon hearts from the drugstore if you want, they’re like twenty-five cents.” 

“That’s not the  _ point, _ ” Fred insisted. “The point is, it’s fun. Someone comes in your class and hands out Valentines, and everyone knows you love them, and it’s like we’re all in grade school again. And then if you get any from secret admirers you have to find out who they are, and-” Fred clapped excitedly. “It’s my favourite day.” 

“And my least favourite.” 

“But you get secret admirers every year.” 

“‘Cause I play football. You think I’m going to fall in love with some girl because she buys me a lame scrap of paper?” 

Fred sighed and pulled a scribbled-on notebook out of his bag, consulting the front inside cover. He flipped it around to show FP. “Here’s my list. Am I missing anyone?” 

FP smiled despite himself when he saw his initials at the top. He scanned the list of what looked like every girl in their grade. “Looks fine.” 

Fred propped his chin on his fist and looked at him thoughtfully. “You really don’t like mushy stuff, huh?” 

“No.” 

“Even when it’s for you?” 

“Especially then.” 

“Hmm.” Fred’s shoulders fell a little, and for a moment FP felt worried he’d rained too much on his friend’s parade. But then Fred was out of his seat like a shot, scooping the notebook up to his chest and flashing FP his usual megawatt smile. “Well, I better go buy them. I want to get the best ones.” 

“Yeah, before the ten in your sock disintegrates.” FP rolled his eyes, but smiled despite himself. “Good luck with the pizza.” 

“I won’t need it,” Fred replied smugly. “Valentine’s Day’s in the bag this year. Hiram doesn’t have a chance.” 

* * *

“Hey Penelope!” Fred called out in greeting. 

Penelope sighed and flipped her long red ponytail over her shoulder, where it fell against her festive white-and-red cardigan. She and Sierra were seated at a folding table in front of the trophy case, a cash box and a stack of candygrams placed neatly in front of them. A piece of decorated posterboard proclaimed STUDENT COUNCIL PRESENTS VALENTINE’S CANDYGRAMS in red cut-out letters. Penelope shoved a pencil behind her ear. 

“Yes, Fred, we’re going to ask the band to play _Wonderful Tonight_ at the dance for you. Now can you stop asking? We’ve got your request a hundred times.” 

“I’m buying candygrams,” Fred declared. He held out the twenty-dollar bill proudly and set it on the folding table. Then he took off one red high-top and jumped up and down on the other foot, rooting around in his gym sock for the curled ten-dollar bill he’d tucked in the ankle that morning. Sierra put down the magazine she was leafing through and looked at him in concern. Fred held the ten up proudly and dropped it on top of the twenty. Penelope wrinkled her nose in disgust. 

“Did that just come out of your sock?” 

“Twenty-two small candygrams, and one of the medium sized ones, please. And one big one.” 

Sierra looked blankly at the wrinkled bill as Penelope obligingly began to count out slips of construction paper and push them across the table towards him. Fred uncapped one of the red pens from the table and hooked his elbow around the scraps of paper as he began to write. 

“Don’t peek,” he chastised them with a wink. 

“So who’s Hermione taking to the dance?” Sierra asked interestedly as he wrote. “You or Hiram?” 

“Me, obviously.” Fred signed a name on the largest candygram with a flourish. Penelope adjusted her glasses the way she did when she was about to correct someone in class. 

“Hiram was just here, and he said the same thing,” she reported in a businesslike tone. 

Fred laughed. “Well, she hasn’t decided yet. But tomorrow morning I’m going to be at her house early with flowers and a new song I wrote for her. And I bought her a necklace and I’m going to take her out for dinner before the dance. And I ordered a heart-shaped pizza to the cafeteria for her for lunch.” He beamed at this last part. “She hates tuna fish Thursdays.” 

Sierra softened a little. “Okay, that’s pretty cute.” She smiled. “I know Valentine’s Day was just invented by greeting card companies as a cash grab, but it’s kind of nice to see everyone getting in the spirit.” 

“Tell FP that, he’s been grumping all day.” Fred handed her the candygrams he’d finished filling out and bent over the stack of smaller ones. “He gets all sulky when nice things happen.” 

“You fucked up,” said Sierra, looking at the two largest ones with interest. “You put Hermione’s name on the second-biggest.” 

“Yeah. She doesn’t like the cinnamon hearts.” 

Sierra flipped the largest candygram around - a large pink heart trimmed in lace and printed on heavy cardstock. Fred had written  _ FP Jones  _ on the line for the name. 

“You get your friend a nicer candygram than your girlfriend?” 

“Yeah. I guess I’m trying to-” Fred paused, gnawing on his lower lip. “I dunno. Trying something. Nothing. Whatever. Aren’t these supposed to be private anyway?” 

“We look at all of them. Sue me, I’m nosy.” Sierra seemed decidedly unremorseful. She tossed them both in a large red fishbowl in the middle of the table. Fred wrote studiously for several minutes, pausing occasionally to shake out cramps in his hand. Finally, he pushed the litany of smaller papers towards her. 

“Here. Don’t look at these, though. There might be something in there for you two.” 

“If Tom and I ever break up, you’ll be the first to know,” Sierra joked, though she smiled happily. “He’s taking me out for dinner in Westbrook tonight. Candlelight, dancing, the whole nine yards.” 

Fred’s eyes widened. “Wow.” He turned to Penelope. “Do you have plans?” 

“I’m decorating the gym,” Penelope said stiffly. “Someone has to do it.” 

“Right on,” Fred enthused. “Use lots of pink, okay? Hermione loves pink.” 

Penelope sighed loudly through her nose. Unconcerned, Fred dropped his last candygram into the red jar and gave it a tap for good luck. 

“I meant to ask,” Sierra spoke up, “Why aren’t the Fredheads playing the dance?” 

“Conflict of interests,” Fred replied. “Featherhead’s interested in oppressing rock and roll.” 

“He probably just doesn’t want you to take your shirt off again.” Penelope answered smoothly. She picked up Fred’s thirty dollars between her forefinger and thumb and dropped them in the cash box, grimacing. “Have a nice day.” 

Fred beamed. “No, you two have a nice day. Tell Hiram not to take it so hard at the dance tomorrow.” 

He skipped away with his laces untied, leaving the two girls staring incredulously after him. 

* * *

FP paused at the double doors leading into the Bulldogs gymnasium. Fred had skipped off somewhere in a hurry immediately after school - something about arrangements with a florist that FP hadn’t paid much attention to. Hiram had passed them in the hall, and the harried animosity between the two had actually crackled. FP wasn’t sure why they were acting like anything out of the ordinary was happening - Hermione would dance with both of them tomorrow, get bored, and start the rigamarole all over again. It had been exactly that way since middle school. 

And maybe things should have been different this year, now that he and Fred had slipped into something more than friends. In fact, over the summer it had been almost - well, no. FP shut down that train of thought. They were _ friends.  _ Friends who fooled around. FP had obstinately cut off anything more than that. He hadn’t caved to Fred’s puppy dog eyes or his little gifts or his whispered confessions of feelings. Not even when Fred had kept it up in the fall. There was no point to it, FP told himself. No future. 

So Fred had eventually gone back to trying to win Hermione’s heart, and FP had let him. Had even egged him on, maybe, even though his own heart was screaming at him to stop. It was fucked up, but he knew he’d rather resent Fred for chasing Hermione than do that other thing. Make himself vulnerable. Let this be something with feelings attached. 

FP had intended to hit the weights room for a few hours before he headed home - by which point his dad would hopefully be out at the bar. His only problem was crossing the lobby without being reminded of the stupid holiday tomorrow - the whole place was wallpapered with posters for the dance. The candygram table was set up on the other side of the lobby, where he was grateful to see no one was still milling around. Clearly, everyone had made their purchases early. 

He’d been thinking about it on and off all day. Enough that he’d stopped at his locker and counted out all the coins that had accumulated in his gym bag and jacket pockets. Enough that he was starting to get worried they’d take the stand down now that the final bell had rung. He paused with his hand on the door and looked back at the table, debating with himself. Fine. 

He would check the stupid thing out. Quietly. Unobtrusively. With no one around. 

“FP Jones!” Sierra announced to the lobby as soon as he walked up, effectively quashing FP’s hopes of scoping it out quietly. She grinned at him, reaching for a pen. “Who’s the lucky girl?” 

“No one. None of your business.” He shoved his hands deep in his pockets, pretending to look unimpressed by the stacks of pink and red paper. “How’s this shit work, anyway?” 

“Pay a dollar, get a candygram. We deliver them during the fourth period tomorrow, before the dance. Last call, because we’re closing up the stand soon.” She pointed to a few sample cards set up on the table. “If it’s someone special, three dollars gets you a bag of candy hearts. Five dollars and you get one with lace and a mixed bag with cinnamon hearts and chocolate.” 

“Sounds like a rip off.” FP stood in front of the table, wiping his sweaty hands inside his pockets. He picked up the bag of candy hearts and pretended to examine it, then dropped it and shoved his hands in his pockets again. 

“So are you moving on? Or are you just going to stand there breathing on everything?” 

“Hold on, hold on,” FP muttered, digging his hands deeper in his pockets. He squeezed his hands into fists around the coins. “Can’t a guy fucking think about it?” 

Sierra raised her eyebrow but turned to the guy behind FP in line, calmly holding out her hand for his change. The kid took the scrap of paper and bent down, scrawling a name in red pen on the dotted line. 

“You can do one anonymously,” Penelope spoke up, making FP’s eyes snap to her face. FP balked when her wide eyes settled on his from behind her glasses. Suddenly he wanted to run out of the school and never return. Sierra nodded studiously. 

“Yeah, we won’t tell anyone.” 

“You two read them all? 

“No,” said Sierra promptly, at the same time as Penelope said “yes.” They glanced at one another. 

“Fuck it,” FP muttered. He walked away from the folding table, his gym bag banging against his leg and his heart pounding wildly. 

“FP!” Sierra called out quickly. She waved her hands. FP ducked his head and kept walking, but Penelope just shouted louder. 

“FP JONES!” 

FP turned quickly and jogged back. There were really only a few sophomores in the lobby, hanging out in groups on the benches, but he felt as though the whole school were staring at him. “What?” he griped. 

“We won’t look at yours,” Sierra spoke up. “If you don’t want us to.” 

“Yeah, right.” 

“Honest. They all go in this jar. The only person who sees them is whoever has to attach all the candy. And if we did we wouldn’t tell anyone.” 

“Oh, forget it,” FP snarled, digging in his pocket. “I’ll buy a stupid candy.” 

He plunked down four quarters on the table, glancing guiltily over his shoulder as he did. 

“Big spender,” said Sierra dryly and handed him a pen. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” 

FP moved the slip of pink paper to the edge of the table and stared at the dotted line as though it were the answer to the world’s hardest test. Then he scribbled a name and folded it in half. 

“There.” He said, slipping it in the jar. “Anonymous.” 

“I hope she likes it,” Penelope said

“Oh, fuck off,” FP snapped. 

The two girls waited patiently until FP had disappeared into the gym. Then Sierra promptly shoved her fist in the bowl, her eyes glued to the bent scrap of paper that had been FP’s. 

“I feel bad,” she admitted as she drew it out. “But did you see how he was acting? It’s going to kill me if I don’t find out.” 

She fished out the slip of paper and set it down in front of Penelope, who huddled over it so that their heads pressed together. After reading the paper they sat slowly back up. Sierra snorted and tossed the candygram back in the bowl. 

“Fred Andrews. After all that fuss.” Sierra shook her head. “I bet he chickened out. Who do you think it was?” 

Penelope shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said honestly, tugging the end of her ponytail back over her shoulder. “But _ I _ think she can do better.” 

* * *

**February 14th.**

FP had been sweating all day. Game day sweating. No amount of repeating calmly to himself that Fred was probably getting fifty other anonymous candygrams had helped. 

_ You’re giving him a lollipop with a piece of paper taped to it. As a friend. He’s given you one of these every year since you were kids. So why are you acting like it’s an engagement ring?  _

It was the gesture. FP didn’t do shit like this. No part of who he was to Fred - not the class jock, not the tough guy, not the emotionally unavailable fuck buddy - none of that would touch this with a ten foot pole. 

This was loud. This was saying  _ Fred is worth humiliating myself.  _ This was saying  _ I’m thinking about you on Valentines Day, the corniest of all possible holidays. _ Even if it was anonymous, from no one, even if Fred didn’t recognize it. This was admitting that to himself. And that was unbearable. 

FP rocked back and forth slightly in his chair out of nerves, grateful that he was at the back of the class where no one could watch him panic. The rest of the class was equally fixated on the door at the front of the room - their history teacher kept sighing wearily at the class’s obvious lack of engagement in his teaching about the war of 1812. A string of paper hearts decorated the area above the chalkboard, and FP kept tearing his eyes away from them. 

Fred was glancing every so often at Hermione - his romantic pizza lunch had backfired when Hiram had also planned a romantic cafeteria lunch for Hermione, complete with tablecloths, chilled sparkling cider, and a cheese, sushi and fruit spread that must have cost more than the school’s lunch budget for a year. Hermione had been pissed off at them both for failing to coordinate, haughty with Fred about the fact that he’d brought her something so messy when she was wearing a white sweater, but downright furious at Hiram for making her the laughingstock of the cafeteria when the catering trucks had arrived. Or so she claimed. FP was pretty sure she had loved every second of the attention, and was enjoying making them sweat out the last few hours before the bell when she’d decide who got to be her escort for the dance. 

The minute hand moved agonizingly slowly around the clock. FP could feel sweat creeping down his neck. Finally there was an audible stir in the classroom energy as the door flew open, and football captain Harry Clayton burst in, wearing a pink t-shirt with red hearts taped to it and a shiny pink top hat from the drama department’s costume closet. 

“Happy Valentines Day!” he boomed, rattling a large pink shopping bag, and the class, who had been waiting eagerly for this moment, all sat up straighter. Hermione tossed her head and looked around proudly. Fred’s face lit up like a firework display. 

Fuck. One of his teammates was passing them out. FP ducked his head and stared at his desk, hoping he looked like someone who was sick of Valentine's Day and not someone who was on death row. Their teacher sighed and sat down, motioning for Harry to get it over with. The football player beamed and reached into the pink bag, withdrawing a bag of candy hearts. 

“Melinda! Have we got a Melinda here?” 

He tossed the candygram to Melinda in the front row, who covered her face obligingly and laughed. The classroom had burst into excited chatter. Hermione was already holding out her hands expectantly. 

“How about Mary?” Harry laughed and tossed her a lollipop underhand. “Happy Valentines Day!” 

FP’s tension mounted as Harry moved through the aisles, passing out candy. The list of students receiving candy grams seemed inexhaustible. Every girl in their class got at least one, which FP had no doubt was his best friend’s doing. Penelope blushed shyly and folded hers in her hands. When Hermione got her bag of candy hearts she turned and blew Fred an exaggerated kiss, which he caught out of mid-air and sent back a wink. 

Harry tossed FP a huge bag of candy and a cardstock heart, which he barely glanced at. Finally, it occurred to him to turn it over, and with a dry mouth and a rapidly pounding heart, he read Fred’s name on the sender’s line. It meant very little: Fred had been sending him the same one every year since they were kids, and FP had made his stance on Valentine’s Day clear even then. In no world would Fred be expecting him to reciprocate. He felt regret accompanied by hysteria. What if this blew up in his face somehow? 

“Fred Andrews?” To a small uproar of applause, Harry made one last stop, dumping a mountain of candygrams out of the bag and over the surface of Fred’s desk. FP’s heart sank in a way he hadn’t thought it capable of doing any further. Harry took an exaggerated bow and left the classroom with a wave, leaving a buzz of conversation in his wake as students sorted through their valentines. 

FP watched the back of his friend’s head as he read each of the slips of paper attached to his treats. He spotted a bag of mixed candies on Fred’s notebook and cursed himself - he couldn’t have shelled out five bucks? Fred probably had a dozen anonymous admirers, and his was just another unsigned note in the bunch. Fred would never know which was his, which was probably, now that he thought about it, for the best, but it made him feel like he’d been punched. 

Forget it. He’d never admit it. No one could prove anything. 

Fred suddenly sat a little straighter in his seat. His shoulders went up and back as though he were happy, and he turned around in FP’s direction. There was a red lollipop in his hand, and a piece of pink paper taped to the candy. From this distance FP could barely make out his own untidy writing. 

Fred’s eyes met his. He smiled. FP’s stomach unclenched from the fist it had been crushed in and suddenly felt as though it were floating above the drop of a very steep roller-coaster. He slid his eyes away, keeping purposefully calm. Fred turned back around and started talking animatedly to Hermione, but FP noticed he kept the candygram in his hand, his thumb stroking the wrapper lightly. 

The bell rang with a sharp trill, and FP got up quickly, abruptly too shy to face his friend. He had moved into the crush of students swarming towards the entrance and was halfway out the door when a hand grabbed the strap of his bag and yanked him backwards. 

“C’mere,” Fred whispered in his ear. He’d slipped invisibly into the throng of people headed down the hall, and had now looped his arm through FP’s and was steering him to the side with his chest pressed to FP’s back. He shoved FP into the science classroom and glanced both ways before following him in, slamming the frosted glass door with finality. 

“Don’t like Valentine’s Day, huh?” Fred’s face was quickly inches from his, and the beakers rattled in the glass cabinet as Fred backed him up against it. He was beaming. 

“How’d you-” 

“You think I can’t recognize your handwriting?” Fred’s hands trapped FP’s against the counter, the slightly shorter boy leaning up against his chest so they stayed face to face. Fred’s grin spread from ear to ear, his eyes glowing warmly. The light caught on the small gold hoop in his ear. “I guess we’re both lame now, huh?” 

FP’s heart was pounding wildly. Fred was looking at him in a whole new way - his eyes were soft and gleaming and happiness shone out of his face. FP stepped back so that the counter cut into his spine, scuffling his foot on the floor and casting his eyes down. 

“It’s whatever,” he said, awkwardly scratching the longer hair at the back of his neck. His face was flaming. “It’s just a stupid candy, and I didn’t even get you the big one, so-” 

Fred leaned up and threw his arms around FP’s neck, kissing him on the lips. FP felt his heart racing so hard that he was sure Fred could feel it. 

“You’re blushing, do you have a crush on me?” Fred asked teasingly. He touched the back of his hand to FP’s cheek. “Mr. Sentimental?” 

“Get out-” FP started to say, moved reflexively as though to push Fred off, play it down, albeit gently. But when his hand touched Fred’s arm a well of courage suddenly sprang up from some hidden reservoir inside him and he felt himself blushing deeper as he answered: 

“Yeah, whatever.” He cast his eyes down. “Maybe.” 

“I have a crush on you too,” Fred whispered, and kissed him on the cheek. One hand stayed wrapped around the back of FP’s neck. “You’re my valentine now, huh?” 

FP shivered at the pressure of Fred’s lips on his flaming cheek. “You want that?” He shifted from foot to foot, caught out of his depth. “I mean, sure, whatever, but I thought-” 

“I’ve always wanted that.” Fred’s thumb brushed his cheekbone and he kissed him quickly again, looking amazed when FP stayed put. FP glanced down at the sweaty bag of candy he’d shoved into the pocket of his jacket. 

“You get me the expensive one,” he said nervously, fingering the corner. “I thought you just got everyone the same thing.” 

“About time you noticed.” Fred nudged him and suddenly grasped his hand, their fingers lacing. “I was hoping one of these years you’d figure it out.” 

“Figure what out?” 

Fred cracked a huge smile. “Do you see yourself right now? Your face is bright red.” 

“Shut up.” FP shoved him, dropping his hand. “It’s not.” 

“It is!” 

“It’s a stupid holiday,” FP muttered, but allowed Fred to step closer to him and take his hand again. The pressure of their hands winding together left him almost breathless. “Figure what out?” 

“That you’re a softie deep down.” Fred’s fingers caressed his cheek, which even FP could feel burning. He stood frozen under Fred’s touch, his cheek tingling like an allergic reaction. Fred stroked his cheek again and then beamed fondly when he sensed he could push his luck further. “You love Valentine’s day. You love mushy stuff. You have a big fat crush on me, you big sap.” 

Fred leaned in to kiss him, their noses bumping, and FP trapped him in a tight bear hug so they were pinned chest to chest. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, handsome,” Fred murmured. 

“Shut up,” said FP, and kissed him on the lips. 


End file.
